Weighty Ghost
by EpicBuffalo
Summary: Arthur makes an unexpected friend during his daily visits to the cemetery, and he feels his life getting back on track. Human AU.


_It's been a really long time since I've posted anything, but I finally finished this fic that's been sitting on my computer for ages so I feel pretty accomplished :) The title comes from a song by Wintersleep. I need more England/Canada interaction so I'm doing my part to contribute. I wrote it platontically but interpret it how you like. Also I'm pretty sure this is my first AU so that's pretty nerve-wracking._

**_Warning_**_ for offscreen character death. I intended it to be a major character but it's not explicitly mentioned who it is._

_Anyway I'm pretty rusty but hopefully this turned out okay. Enjoy! :)_

* * *

Arthur Kirkland can think of a hundred other places he'd rather be than a cemetery.

In fact, he's been keeping a mental list; he's just added _laundromat _and _public bus_. It's just a distraction, though; he's doing his best not to think about the real reason he's here.

He stares down at the headstone. It's tasteful, not overly ornate- he doesn't particularly think it fits the man it's supposed to represent. Not nearly flashy enough. It doesn't stand out from the rows of similar gray markers surrounding it on all sides.

"You bastard," he mutters quietly to himself. "You just _left _me here. What the hell am I supposed to do now?"

Part of him wants desperately to be angry, but if he's honest with himself he's lost. His tears are cried, and now he's left to figure out where to go next.

"I'll probably have to move, soon," he says. He shrugs himself a bit deeper into his coat, hands dug into his pockets. The air is cool but warmer than the last few days, and it's quite nice for an early spring morning. "Can't afford the rent by myself." It's too empty now, anyway, he doesn't add. Too much space for one person. It was never meant for one person.

Off to the side, he can see someone dragging a lawnmower behind himself. The boy is whistling a bright tune, and just for a moment, Arthur is offended. After a second, though, he decides that he'd probably do the same thing, if he worked at a place like this. Too easy to dwell on your own existence otherwise, he figures.

Arthur spares one more glance at the grave, rereads the name with a heavy sigh, then turns and heads to work.

* * *

Arthur returns the next day, and the day after that. He shouldn't, he realizes, but he doesn't know what else to do. He still hasn't adjusted to having no one to greet in the morning, no one to bicker with over breakfast, no one to wish him a good day as he leaves for work. At least his trips here fill his mornings with some sense of purpose. Painful as it is, it feels better than an empty apartment.

There's a clatter somewhere behind him, and he glances over his shoulder at the sudden noise. He's met with the sight of the same boy as before. Now, though, he can get a good look. He tries not to make his staring obvious as he takes in the wavy blond hair and glasses, the bright violet eyes and gentle face. The boy is wearing a red plaid flannel jacket and jeans, with heavy work boots on his feet and filthy gloves on his hands.

All in all, Arthur decides, he's not unpleasant to look at.

Like before, they don't speak. Arthur keeps his eyes on the grave before him, but out of the corner of his vision he can see the boy hauling a rake to the far end of the field.

* * *

Arthur only learns the boy's name by accident one day when someone arrives to pick him up. The two boys look similar enough that Arthur guesses they might be related. This new boy is also blond and sports glasses, and he arrives at the gate one day and calls, "Matt, hurry up!"

_Matt_ scrambles to put away his equipment, and nods politely at Arthur with a small smile when they make accidental eye contact. Then he hurries after the other boy, and the two of them leave in a beat up green car with chipped paint and old, worn bumper stickers.

* * *

_ Matt_ is the first one to strike up a conversation.

Arthur's visits are routine, now, and they have been for a few weeks. He's sure they'll stay that way until he finds something else to fill his mornings.

He's only just arrived when the boy comes up next to him, pushing a wheelbarrow. He bends down and begins clearing away the dead flowers on the graves, tidying them.

"Morning," _Matt_ says. His voice is quiet but friendly. Their eyes meet for a moment, and Matt flashes him a small, sympathetic smile that Arthur ignores.

"Morning," he returns.

"I've been seeing you around a lot lately," the boy begins, hesitantly. He clears his throat awkwardly when Arthur looks at him, like he's unsure if his conversation is welcome. He nods toward the headstone. "I'm sorry." He doesn't pry.

Arthur nods. "Thank you." After a moment, the boy returns to his work. Arthur feels a strange twinge of regret, and decides not to let the conversation die before Matt has moved out of his range. "I see you around a lot, too."

Matt brightens slightly, and says, "I do some work around here when the weather's nice. Little extra pocket money, you know?" He stands, brushes the dirt from his gloves- not that it makes a difference- and stretches his back. "Nobody else wants to do it."

"I can't imagine why," Arthur deadpans, and the boys laughs brightly and holds out a hand.

"I'm Matthew," he says. "You can call me Matt, if you want."

Arthur grips his hand. "Arthur," he says. "Pleasure to meet you, Matthew."

The conversation dies there, but neither of them minds. Matthew returns to his work, and a few minutes later Arthur leaves, waving over his shoulder.

* * *

When Arthur arrives one day, Matthew is in uncharacteristically low spirits.

Not that he would _know_, of course; by this point they've only spoken a couple of times. But he's gotten the impression that Matthew is generally happy, even despite his dreary job, and Arthur is surprised to find himself concerned.

"Alright, Matthew?" he asks. It's really none of his business, he knows, but the boy just looks so upset. He's sitting on the steps leading into the toolshed, staring off to the side.

He jumps slightly when Arthur speaks. "Um, yeah," he says. "Just-" He points off in the direction he'd been looking, and Arthur turns.

There's a grave over there, separated a bit from the others. It's fresh, from what Arthur can tell, and he's about to turn back and express his sympathy when he suddenly double-takes. His stomach clenches.

The grave is so _tiny_.

Matthew sighs heavily. "I hate this job."

Arthur pats Matthew awkwardly on the shoulder, but even though he's sure Matthew could use some company, he leaves earlier than usual.

* * *

Arthur feels terrible about his abrupt departure the rest of the day, and when he wakes up the next morning he still can't get it off his mind. He's desperate to make it up to Matthew, though he can't quite figure out why, even though in the back of his mind he's sure the boy isn't mad.

On his walk that morning, he pops into a little coffee shop and briefly mulls over what to get. Does Matthew even drink coffee? Tea, perhaps? Finally he decides that hot chocolate is a pretty safe bet; it's still dreary outside, although the weather has been improving. He supplements his order with a chocolate chip muffin and continues on his way.

Matthew is there, of course, appearing to be in much better spirits than the day before. Arthur feels a weight lifted off his shoulders. He approaches with his food and drink, smiling lightly as the boy struggles to get the lawnmower through the shed door.

"Good morning, Matthew," he calls, and Matthew turns toward him, appearing to give up on his task for the time being.

"Oh, hey Arthur."

Arthur presents Matthew with the cup and paper pastry bag, and Matthew raises his eyebrows in surprise. He takes them somewhat hesitantly.

"What are these for?" he asks.

Arthur fidgets and turns his gaze away. "I just... thought you could use them."

When he looks back, Matthew has shifted the cup and bag to the same hand to dig in his pocket. "How much do I owe you?"

"Don't be daft," Arthur says firmly, waving him off with a grin.

The smile Matthew gives him is warm and genuine, and Arthur returns it reflexively. This moment feels very significant, and he isn't really sure why.

* * *

He and Matthew strike up something of a friendship. Matthew isn't there everyday, because there's only so much maintenance to be done, but Arthur still makes the trip every morning before work. They make friendly small talk whenever they catch each other, and Arthur learns bits and pieces of Matthew's life- he has a brother named Alfred, and that green death trap is his pride and joy. He's eighteen and taking a year off from school, but is going back in the fall to a local college and couldn't be more excited. He's looking forward to the hockey season starting, even though his team is going to be terrible.

Still, though, Arthur gives up very little information about himself, preferring to let Matthew's pleasant voice fill his mornings with something other than crippling loneliness.

"You know," Matthew says one day as he leans on his rake, "if you ever want to talk, I'm all ears." There's an almost-awkward silence as Arthur processes the offer. "I mean, you know," Matthew continues, holding his hands up in front of himself. "You always let me go on about whatever, and I'm willing to return the favour." His signature grin is spread across his face, bright and warm. The corner of Arthur's mouth twitches as though Matthew's good mood is contagious. "You look like you could use somebody to vent to."

When Matthew walks by to go back to work, he gives Arthur a friendly bump with his shoulder. "Think about it," he says. "The offer's always open."

Arthur does think about it. He thinks about it for days, wonders whether he should give his story to this friendly, smiling boy he barely knows.

It'll be awkward, argues one part of his mind. Matthew was just being polite. He doesn't really want to hear about some stranger's problems. He has his own life to deal with.

It could be helpful, the other part counters. It's not good to bottle everything up and hope it goes away. An unbiased ear could work wonders, and if he regrets it it's not like he _has _to see Matthew again.

He decides to do it.

On a bright Tuesday morning that he doesn't have to work, he follows his usual path to the cemetery. He prays that Matthew is there today; he's afraid that if he misses his opportunity he won't try again and nothing will be resolved.

A mixture of relief and apprehension swirls through Arthur's body when he passes through the gate and sees that Matthew is, in fact, working today. He's raking again; with how big the cemetery is, it's a daunting job. Matthew raises a gloved hand in greeting when he sees Arthur approach, and Arthur returns it with a friendly nod and smile.

He fixes his gaze on the grave in front of him while he tries to decide the best way to go about this. He doesn't know how to begin or what to say, but when he sees Matthew moving away he realizes he's missing his opportunity and blurts, "He was my best friend."

Matthew stops what he's doing and stares. He doesn't say anything, which Arthur is grateful for.

"We met in high school," Arthur continues. He's distantly aware that this is probably more backstory than Matthew needs, but it feels like a floodgate has been opened. "We fought about everything, didn't have anything in common, his other friends were a pain." _That last bit's not entirely true_, he mentally amends. Toni had always been friendly.

"But he was always looking out for me, making sure I didn't need anything, checking up on my grades, that kind of thing." He sighs. "I tended to fly under the radar a lot at home because I have five brothers." Matthew winces, prompting a snort from Arthur.

"Yeah. So I needed someone like him, I think, to make sure I was doing what I was supposed to be doing. He graduated the year before me, and when I finished we moved in together.

"And everything was great, and then-" His breath hitches, but he's determined to finish. "-and then he got sick, and it was awful, you know, he just got worse and worse. And one day he was up walking around, and I mean he was weak and tired but managing, and then all of a sudden he was all but bedridden and it- it killed me to see him like that."

He feels warm arms surround him and his face is pressed into a shoulder. Arthur realizes he's crying, quite hard in fact, but Matthew doesn't seem to mind. Arthur feels like he should be embarrassed, but he's not; he feels better than he has in a long time, exhausted but refreshed, and he thinks, _I really needed this._

Matthew's a bit taller than he is, so that Arthur's head rests comfortably on the flannel-clad shoulder. Arthur draws a deep breath, and on the exhale whispers quietly, "Thank you."

Matthew just tightens his grip.

* * *

Arthur runs in to Matthew by chance one gray Saturday in the small coffee shop just down the street from his apartment. He's sitting at a table by the window with the blond boy Arthur remembers picking up Matthew sometimes when he's done working, and Arthur realizes this must be Matthew's brother, Alfred.

For a moment Arthur hesitates, tapping his fingers on his cup of tea as he wonders whether he should say anything. He doesn't want to interrupt their conversation, but ultimately he decides it can't hurt. He catches Matthew's eye as he walks by, and with one hand jammed into his coat pocket, he lifts a few fingers off the cup in something of a wave. Matthew grins.

"Hey Arthur!" he calls, waving him over. When Arthur nears the table Matthew gestures to the other boy. "This is my brother Alfred. Al, this is Arthur, remember I told you about him?"

For a moment Arthur is touched that Matthew has apparently spoken about him to his brother, and then he wonders whether Alfred had been told the story he'd spilled. He has no time to dwell on it, though, because Alfred grins at him- and it's the same as his brother's, there's really no doubt they're related- and claps him on the shoulder with a deceptively strong hand.

"So I finally get to meet the mysterious Arthur, huh? Mattie talks about you all the time, you know." Alfred drags an empty chair over from another table. "Sit down with us!"

Alfred is a whirlwind, so different from his brother, but Arthur can't help but grin as he accepts the seat. There are papers scattered over the table between them and Matthew absently twirls a pen in his right hand while his left grips a cup of coffee. Alfred takes a sip of something strong-smelling with syrup and whipped cream.

"Mattie's trying to find a place before he goes back to school," Alfred informs him. "He's not having much luck."

"Everything's so far away," Matthew laments. "Or expensive."

Arthur pauses for a moment and processes what he's hearing. Matthew needs a place to stay? He wonders if it's a sign.

"I have an extra room," he blurts before he can stop himself. Alfred and Matthew both stare at him, wide-eyed. "I mean, you know. If you're interested."

Matthew eyes him carefully. "That'd be okay? Really?" Alfred looks out of the loop,and Arthur realizes Matthew must not have shared his story.

Registering the question, Arthur nods firmly and smiles slightly. "You can come have a look at least, if you like. It's just up the street."

The look Matthew gives him is hopeful. "If you're really sure, then yeah, I'd really appreciate it."

Alfred is grinning widely as he stands up to put on his jacket. "That's awesome, Mattie! Let me know how it goes, I really have to get going to work. He grabs his cup and waves. "It was nice meeting you, Arthur. Look after my little brother for me!" And then he's gone, the shop's bell tinkling behind him.

The two of them finish their drinks in comfortable silence and then stand up to leave. Arthur returns his chair to the nearby table and then pushes the door open and steps onto the sidewalk. He leads Matthew up the street to an older apartment building, seventeen storeys with small, colourful flowerbeds on either side of the main entrance. They ride the elevator up to the eighth floor and Arthur unlocks his door.

"Here we are," he says with a flourish. "Home sweet home."

Matthew snorts good-naturedly at his antics and kicks off his shoes before making his way inside the apartment. It's a good size, with white walls and laminate flooring. The living room has old but comfortable cream furniture and a TV tucked away in a corner, with two tall bookshelves against one wall. The kitchen is small but serviceable (not that Matthew is much of a cook anyway). The bathroom looks recently redone and has a blue shag mat in front of the sink that Matthew chooses not to comment on.

"This is my room," Arthur says, gesturing at a closed door in the hallway as they walk by. "And this one would be yours." He opens the door to reveal an empty square room. It has one small, uncovered window letting in light and a closet that, while not notably large, would be more than big enough for Matthew.

Their last stop is the balcony. It overlooks a park that Matthew knows is quite busy on nice days. Hanging off the rail is a windowbox with irises growing in it. There's a little glass-topped table and a couple of chairs.

"It's very nice," Matthew says when they're back inside the kitchen. He's peeking through the cupboards, ostensibly to check how much space there is but really he's just feeling nosy. "Are you sure it'd be okay? I don't want to impose or anything."

Arthur shakes his head, smirking to himself when Matthew begins looking through his junk food; he doesn't eat much of it himself, he mostly keeps it for Peter. "I wouldn't have offered if I didn't want you here."

Matthew turns from a high cupboard with a bottle in his hands, apparently distracted from their previous conversation. "You like wine?"

"Ah, not really, no," Arthur admits. "My family is mostly beer drinkers. That was- his."

Matthew eyes him carefully for a moment. "He really meant a lot to you."

"He did," Arthur agrees. "But that room's just sitting empty, and I'll have to move anyway if I don't get some help with the rent. So I figure we can help each other out." Matthew smiles, nods and turns to replace the bottle and close the cupboard door.

"He'd have liked you, I think," Arthur continues, mostly to himself, but Matthew hears it anyway.

"Why's that?" Matthew asks as they being to make their way out to the living room.

Arthur avoids his eyes. "You're hard not to like, to be honest," he admits. "There's just something about you. And your brother, for that matter. Although I think he'd have had a problem with this plaid jacket."

Matthew laughs. "He wouldn't be the only one, eh?"

They pass by a small endtable, and on it are two framed photographs. One is Arthur with a group of boys that Matthew guesses are his brothers; the eyebrows must be hereditary, he muses. Four of them look close to Arthur's age, while the last looks like he's in elementary school.

Arthur is in the other one, too, this time with one other man. Matthew knows immediately who it must be. They both wear large matching grins, arms thrown over each other's shoulders. They look happy and carefree, and Matthew feels a pang of sympathy.

He chooses not to bring it up, and instead says, "Your brothers, huh?" He points a thumb at the first photo.

Arthur nods from his seat on the couch. "I should probably warn you that Peter, the youngest, comes over pretty often after school. He's a pain sometimes but he's a good kid. You don't have to worry about the others, they don't come over much."

"I'm not worried. They're your brothers, how bad can they be?"

Arthur rolls his eyes, but chooses not to argue. "So, then, you've had a look. What do you think, are you interested?"

"I am," Matthew says. "This is a great location. If it's really no trouble, I can move in whenever you're ready."

"And you can cover your part of the rent?"

Matthew nods. "I have some money put away, and I'll be working almost full-time until I go back to school- the cemetery isn't my only job. And once school starts I'll be working part time whenever I can."

"Well then, Matthew," Arthur says, holding out a hand. "Looks like you've got yourself a place."

Matthew shakes his hand, his characteristic bright smile spread across his face. Arthur mirrors it and feels like things are looking up.

* * *

Arthur hands Matthew a key while behind them, Alfred carries in another box. The new tenant immediately hooks it onto his keyring and then dangles it in front of Arthur.

"It's official," Matthew says. "I have a key, you're stuck with me now." Then he claps Arthur on the shoulder and moves to help his brother with the boxes.

Arthur watches them fondly for a moment, then shakes his head and goes to offer his services. "I could do worse."


End file.
